Budos: Seventh: Aquarium Skkar

The Budos tape builds a fire with dry Tinder of rhythm, breaking and appearing by drums. He holds in a set of keyboards, mysterious guitar and insistence, then planes in sudden sparks of copper, and the heat focuses in sharp burning shorts. This seventh album of collective rocks in Brooklyn, born in Brooklyn/Afobit/Jazz, is slightly more difficult than some Budos band shows, but they are not messed up in formula. These songs wear and boast, go from hip in a loose monthly state, but they are also great, and. . .

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